The Passport Chronicles
by Tragic Alchemy
Summary: A Series of Snippets. Ever wonder about the stories behind Nate's passport stamps? This collection serves to satisfy that curiosity. Heavy on the Nate x Elena pairing. Rated T for some adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Taking this for a test run. I recently picked up the Uncharted trilogy again in preparation for the 4th installment, and I have been trying desperately to pick up this muse again. After rereading some of my previous stories, I think I might try for a sequel of sorts, but this is where I decided to start. Let me know if you have some ideas you'd like to see fleshed out. Enjoy; much love!

 **Disclaimer:** Uncharted and its characters do not belong to me; we have Naughty Dog to thank for the fantasy.

 **The Passport Chronicles**

A Series of Snippets

Flight 882: Carson City, NV – Service to Lake Tahoe, CA

"I still can't believe you didn't want to go anywhere exotic," Nate grunted as he dropped his carryon to the floor.

"Why? You've already been everywhere, and I've been to some pretty _exotic_ places already. What's the matter with a little peace and quiet?" Elena asked, leaning back in her seat. Nate glanced over to the flight monitor. "Flight 882: Carson City, NV – Service to Lake Tahoe, CA. On time."

"Well, there are a lot of places for peace and quiet," Nate insisted.

"Like where? Disneyworld?" Elena joked.

"Ha," Nate said without humor. "I mean the south of France—"

"Where you got burned out," Elena interjected.

"That was Eastern France," Nate clarified.

"What's wrong with Tahoe? Can't bring yourself to travel within the confines of the United States?"

"Nah, I don't know. I just get antsy. You know that," he responded.

"Nate, listen. This is my honeymoon. I want a low profile trip. I want Tahoe."

Nate sighed, "Alright. You can have Tahoe. But next time I get Seville."

Elena turned to study him and found his arms crossed over his chest as though he were a pouting 7-year-old. She couldn't decide whether she wanted to get annoyed at his behavior or just laugh. She took his hand instead. "Deal. Tahoe this time, Spain next time."

The window of the cabin was strung open allowing the evening air to drift through. It lightly kissed the feverish, bare skin of the inhabitants. "So, uh… how do you want to start out this honeymoon?" Nate had said when they arrived, slipping a finger through one of Elena's belt loops and pulling her in his direction. They were checked in, unpacked, and completely situated. What was to happen next?

Nate reached over and brushed a few sweat-soaked strands of blonde hair away from Elena's eyes. She chuckled to herself and turned to Nate. "You would think that with all the running and climbing and crap we do everywhere else, we wouldn't even get winded in the sack."

"Heh, yeah," Nate returned. "But it's all worth it." He leaned toward her and placed his lips on her forehead. He just couldn't believe that this woman could love him. He never thought he would ever find a woman that could be and would be completely his; and he was hers. He laid his head back down and basked in the moment.

Elena turned her gaze toward Nate and studied him closely. Her eyes fell upon each scar, and she knew each had a story. First, she placed a gentle finger over the old bullet wound in his abdomen. "Tibet?" she questioned, recalling their excursion through Shambala.

"Mm," he confirmed.

She turned her attention to the strange scar of a scrape on his forearm. "South America?" she guessed as she ran her finger along it. "During the El Dorado thing?"

"Heh, yeah. Our first adventure together."

"What about this one?" she asked as she fingered a raised star-shaped scar on his shoulder.

"Eh, that was Colombia. When Sully and I first met actually."

"Here?" A nick on his chin.

"Istanbul. I have Flynn to thank for that one, too."

"Here?" A mark below his ear.

"Boring. Chicken pox."

"And this?" She moved to a slim line above his elbow.

He paused at this one. "Nah, that's not important," he said as he stared at the ceiling.

Elena didn't respond at first. Instead, she kept her finger there and continued to stare. "Maybe not," she said finally. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to know."

Nate sighed and raised an arm, resting his hand above his head. "The orphanage," he said simply. Elena nodded in silence. She considered stopping there, but this moment was beginning to reveal the level of trust he had in her. She wanted more of this.

"What about… this?" Elena asked, brushing a finger over a discolored portion of skin on his side.

"Even less important," he responded quickly. He pulled away and sat up. This allowed Elena to follow that discoloration from his side to his back. It wasn't as if she never noticed it before, but it was far more evident in the moonlight.

"Nate," she said. "…Please?"

Another sigh. "My father" was his answer. She felt a sting of regret in pushing him to tell her. The negative emotions threatened to well up in tears, but she knew better. Nate did not want sympathy; he simply wanted understanding. She reveled in her husband's presence. It was so interesting to her to think that in his love of history and geography, he became a living map himself. It was a beautiful thing to her, and she wished he could understand this – even if all the stories weren't good ones. She leaned down and placed a simple peck on the discolored flesh across his back. She placed another on the scar above his elbow. Then the one on the forearm. Then the shoulder. The ear. The chin. Finally, she settled on his lips.

"So… what's the second thing you want to do on this honeymoon?" Elena asked. The corner of her mouth was turned up mischievously, but her eyes glowed in pure admiration. How marvelous a man she had – this man who could move on from a life of trauma to something so amazing. He truly was the epitome of "greatness from small beginnings."

Nate recognized this adoration and melted into a soft smile. "How about more of the first?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Uncharted and its characters do not belong to me; we have Naughty Dog to thank for that fantasy.

 **The Passport Chronicles**

A Series of Snippets

 _"How long you been carrying that around?" Nate asked his friend._

 _"Too long," Sully responded simply._

 _"Thought I'd lost it." He had almost forgotten just how the metal of the wedding band reflected the sunlight._

 _"Here's the thing kid..." Sully began..._

Flight 1224: Budapest, Hungary

"So tell me again what a visit to the Hungarian National Museum could tell you that the internet can't?" Elena requested over the phone.

"They have an exhibition over the Turkish occupation," Nate responded simply, leaning over his open suitcase. He was attempting to decide whether or not to unpack. He at least needed new socks; typical Nathan, he trudged through a puddle deep enough to drown him on his way to the hotel.

"Nate, we talked about this," Elena said, almost pleadingly.

"Yeah, I remember. I told you that this would probably be a good place to start," he responded mindlessly. "Don't worry. I knew you didn't want to come, so Sully's here with me." Instead of responding, Nate heard Elena release a breath so heavy, he might have guessed she'd been holding it. "…Elena?"

"That's not what I meant… and you know it," she said. Nate became paralyzed for a moment, his veins freezing over as he reflected on the recent months of endless fights with his wife. Then he felt another pull – this one toward the research he'd been performing over the Ottoman Empire. The life he was used to.

"Elena," he tried carefully. "I don't want to choose."

"To me, it looks like you already have." And she was gone.

Nate pulled the phone away from his ear and stared blankly at the screen. "Call Ended," it said. "I…" he was about to say, but no words followed.

Sully had been sitting in a chair by the window across the room, watching him from the beginning of the conversation. He had warned Nate as they boarded the plane about this… Nate had been confiding in him as his marriage struggled, and while he always didn't do the right thing, he always tried to keep Nate's best interest in mind. "If you go somewhere now, you might not be able to patch things up with Elena," he had said. Now, he couldn't bring himself to recite the same; he could already sense Nate crumbling before him.

"Nate?" he said instead.

"It's, uh… it's no big deal," Nate decided, wiping away inhibitions. "She's just mad right now. She'll forgive me – once we find what we're looking for, of course. She'll realize this was worth it."

"Nate?" Sully tried again, this time standing. He could see Nate loosing himself.

"This has happened before," he attempted to convince himself. "She'll get over it… right?" he finished, turning toward Sully. Sully stared back blankly, and finally ended the exchange with a shrug. He knew Elena had had enough.

"I, uh… I think she's finally done with me," Nate said, suddenly feeling weakness in his knees. He let himself find a seated position on the bed, and Sully approached him, placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. Nate shook it off. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked, not necessarily to Sully, but to the universe.

* * *

"Okay, Nate. I think that's enough," Sully grunted as he attempted to reach for the bottle of palinka in Nate's hand.

"No," Nate whined in response, turning his body away from him and protecting the sacred alcohol. "It's just medicine," he joked. After all, many Hungarian families traditionally used the spirit to eradicate most ailments. Nate had secretly hoped it was just the cure for his broken heart.

Sully sighed. "You think we can at least try to walk back to the hotel?" His eyes scanned the sidewalk. Thankfully, he could spot the hotel from where Nate had finally decided to stall in his drunken stupor. They were only a few blocks away.

"Ugh," Nate responded. "Anywhere I walk is a step away from my marriage."

Sully was taken aback at the quick escalation and the seemingly serious moment of introspection, but he chalked it up to too much of the poison. "Nate?" Sully offered instead, one hand held out toward Nathan, the other motioning in the general direction of the hotel. Instead of taking his hand, Nate planted himself on the curb instead.

"I just gotta sit down for a second," he said. "I can't figure out if I'm about to throw up or pass out… or both."

Sully considered this for a moment and looked about, gauging if they could get away with sitting for a moment. He quickly decided he didn't care and lowered himself to sit next to his friend. He sighed heavily and lit himself a fresh cigar as he sifted through what he could say. This was sticky; Nate needed encouragement and direction, but was quite obviously (at least to Sully) too drunk to remember anything said beyond this point.

"I'm so tired of being a complete screw up," Nathan said, somewhere between a whisper and a mumble.

"Stop that," Sully snapped. "You and I both know that that's not the case." Nate wasn't listening; instead, he had slipped off his wedding band and was now twisting it between his fingers.

"Complete screw up," Nate said again, this time an obvious mumble.

"Nathan," Sully tried. "Screwing up is an event, not an identity. If you need someone to blame, blame me. I sure didn't help anything by letting some of the things that have happened so far happen."

"No," Nate said. "This isn't about you keeping me out of trouble. This is about me looking for trouble." He sighed. "I'm afraid of what I'll see – or won't see – when I get home." Sully was running out of things to say in response, a rarity for him. Instead of talking Nate out of his heartbreak, maybe he could try again at talking him into going back to the hotel.

"We can't sit out here all night, kid," he said. "Let's go back. Sleep it off." Without reply, Nate stood – or at least attempted to. Between the shakes in his limbs and the spinning in his head, his body couldn't recall the basic skills of standing and walking. Nate's foot slid down the edge of the curb, and he plummeted to the ground. Upon impact, he could hear the metallic "clink" of his wedding band being thrown from his grasp. Nate immediately knew what he had just lost.

"GODDAMMIT!" he shouted, planting his fist into the concrete beneath him.

"Here," Sully said, grabbing at Nate's arm to pull him upright. Nate felt deprived of oxygen. Crying would have made sense, but Nate's rage was pulsing through his veins instead. He whimpered back expletives as Sully attempted to steady him. "Nate?" Nathan inhaled painfully…

"Let's just go," he replied. Sully grabbed at Nate, certain he wouldn't be able to walk back without falling again, but Nate tore away from Sully. He fell onto his hands and knees as the contents of his stomach made an escape.

"Jesus, kid," Sully said to himself. He watched as his young friend writhed, coughing up everything he had just ingested. He turned his glance sideways in an attempt to grant some sense of privacy. The moonlight glistened off something in the street. Sully turned back to see Nate still straddling the line between vomiting fool and just plain drunk, and so he decided to check out the beckoning item. Hell, Nate probably wouldn't have blamed him. Sully stood above the glistening object and kicked it over with his shoe. After deciding it wouldn't explode, he bent down to retrieve it. It was Nate's wedding band – the treasure he thought he had lost not two minutes prior.

"Nate," Sully inquired, wedding ring in hand as he looked to locate his friend. Nathan was still retching in the same place he had left him. Sully sighed and pocketed it instead; he knew there would be a better time to return it. In the mean time, he desperately needed to get Nathan out of the street.


End file.
